


Time Enough for Rocking When We're Old

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Rom com tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 02:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5649892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>boston > boston/camb/brook > housing > apts by owner</p><p><b>$2-300 Roxbury small room in 3-br 1-bath house, spouse preferred</b><br/>(Roxbury)</p><p>Pair of siblings looking for housemate. Due to extenuating circumstances I will share with interested parties, I would prefer a roommate who is willing to get married for legitimate personal reasons that do not include sex or anything sketchy. If not interested in marriage, room still available for $300/month plus utilities. Pets okay, no smokers, NO DRUG USE.</p><p>Please don't just email me to tell me this is fucked up, I know it is, you really don't have to tell me.</p><p>If you are interested in the marriage part, a female spouse is preferred, but male would be okay too. I promise I will explain this if you really want details, but I'm not putting it online.</p><p>Serious inquiries only.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Enough for Rocking When We're Old

**Author's Note:**

> There's no such thing as too many fake married fics, right? Sure there isn't.
> 
> As always, I have done basically no research for this, and I'm just basing my knowledge of the world on pop culture.

boston > boston/camb/brook > housing > apts by owner

 **$2-300 Roxbury small room in 3-br 1-bath house, spouse preferred**  
(Roxbury)

Pair of siblings looking for housemate. Due to extenuating circumstances I will share with interested parties, I would prefer a roommate who is willing to get married for legitimate personal reasons that do not include sex or anything sketchy. If not interested in marriage, room still available for $300/month plus utilities. Pets okay, no smokers, NO DRUG USE.

Please don't just email me to tell me this is fucked up, I know it is, you really don't have to tell me.

If you are interested in the marriage part, a female spouse is preferred, but male would be okay too. I promise I will explain this if you really want details, but I'm not putting it online.

Serious inquiries only. 

*

"You cannot seriously be planning to meet a guy who put up a Craigslist ad looking for a spouse, _female preferred but I'm not picky_ ," says Wells.

"At least he's not homophobic," says Clarke, with more optimism than she's really feeling. She's meeting Bellamy Blake here in ten minutes, and Wells insisted on coming to make sure that she didn't get stabbed. Which she doesn't actually mind, honestly; she's pretty sure she's not going to get stabbed, but she'd rather be _completely_ sure. Wells is good insurance. "And he put up an ad for a roommate. The spouse part was optional."

"I know you're mad at your mom, but have you considered trying to talk to her again before you get Craigslist married?"

"That's not why I'm thinking about this," she lies. "I'm just curious."

"Curious," Wells repeats.

"You're not?" she asks. "Who posts on Craigslist looking for a spouse? Seriously, that's weird."

"Who sees someone looking for a spouse on Craigslist and decides the appropriate response is to actually email them? _That's_ weird."

"So we're perfect for each other."

Wells rubs his face. "I'm just--look, Clarke, I know it's been a rough year. I get it. I just don't want you to do anything stupid."

"I'm not going to do anything stupid," she says, and her phone buzzes. She glances down to see that Bellamy Blake has texted, _Got a table, back corner. I'm wearing a black t-shirt and a blue beanie. Don't have a red rose, it seemed weird._

She glances around and spots a guy on his phone in the back, dressed as described. He's got curly black hair and tan skin, and he's surprisingly normal-looking--even cute--for someone who puts up ads on Craigslist asking people to marry him. And then he puts down his phone, glances around the store, clearly nervous, and pushes his glasses up as they slide down his nose, and Clarke feels a strange tug of fondness for him.

That's unexpected. And probably worrying. But--if this is legit, it must be fucking nerve-wracking. She can't blame him.

"Okay," she says. "That's him, in the back. He looks normal."

Wells is at least circumspect in checking Bellamy out. "Yeah, he does. Maybe this is, like, a reality TV thing. There has to be a fake-marriage reality TV show now."

"Yeah, but I'd have to sign a waiver for that, so probably it's just some fetish he can't get from regular sex." She lets out a breath. "Okay, I'm going over. Feel free to leave whenever you're convinced he's not going to murder me."

"So, never?"

"He looks normal!"

"That's how all the serial killers get you," Wells mutters, and Clarke pats his shoulder as she passes.

She clears her throat when she gets to Bellamy Blake's table, and when he looks up, Clarke discovers he has dark brown eyes and freckles, and he's really way too attractive for whatever is happening here. "Hi, um, Bellamy?" He frowns, confused, and she feels her heart sink. How humiliating would it be for someone to turn you down, as their internet spouse? "It's Clarke?"

"Oh!" he says, shooting to his feet and offering his hand. "Hi, shit, sorry. I was, uh--I was expecting a guy, honestly."

Clarke laughs. "You know, that makes a lot of sense. I guess I never really said. But, yeah, hi. I'm Clarke."

"Well, uh--nice to meet you." He wets his lips and gestures to the chair across from him. "Have a seat? Thanks for coming. I wasn't sure I'd get anyone responding, honestly. It was kind of just--" He laughs. "Honestly I got drunk and my best friend told me to put something up and see what happened."

"Why does your best friend think you need to get married? Can't you just rent the room?"

He bites his lip. "Yeah, uh--I do need to get married. He's not wrong. Or--I'd really like to. I just couldn't figure out how to find someone, so when I was drunk, Craigslist seemed like a good idea."

"Okay, yeah, I can see that. So why do you need to get married? Green card? Inheritance thing? Bet? I'm just giving you rom-com plots right now. That's all I could come up with."

He laughs, soft. "Yeah, um--my mom died a few months ago."

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that."

"Yeah, it's--well, she was sick for while, so it wasn't a total shock. But--I've got a little sister. She's fifteen. I've been taking care of her temporarily, but I'd like to get legal custody instead of just fostering her. And the lawyer I talked to was, uh--not really optimistic about my chances of convincing CPS that they should let me keep her. As a single guy with a bunch of college debt and two shitty part-time jobs. Apparently I don't really seem responsible."

"Okay," she says, slow. "So that means--"

"I said I had a girlfriend who was thinking about moving in, just to test the waters, and he said her moving in wouldn't make much of a difference, but it might if we got married. Married couples do much better with adoptions. But I don't actually have a girlfriend, so--"

"So you put a drunken mass proposal on Craigslist."

"I'd say it seemed like a good idea at the time, but honestly I was just trying to shut Miller up. I told him it wouldn't work."

"Were you right?"

"Well, you're here," he says. "Which is honestly a lot more than I was expecting. Most of the emails I got were clearly not serious inquiries. Not that I can blame them." He rubs the back of his neck. "Why are you here, anyway? Morbid curiosity?"

"Yeah. I was looking for summer housing and found you. There was definitely some morbid curiosity involved. My friend is over there to make sure you don't stab me, but--I wanted to know why someone would be looking for a spouse on Craigslist. Especially someone who seemed pretty normal via email."

He glances around, probably trying to spot Wells, and then gives her a wry smile. "I assume that's why your first two emails came from a dummy account."

"Yeah, I didn't really want to give you access to my real name at first, but you seemed fairly harmless. Even if you didn't want to explain the marriage side online."

The emails had been mostly logistical; Clarke had asked about the details of Bellamy's place, when he wanted someone to move in, and then she'd added, _Also, seriously, how important is the marriage thing?_ and he'd said, _Marriage is strongly preferred, I know it's weird. I'd rather explain that in person, if it's cool with you_.

"I tried to write it all down and it just felt ridiculous. Like--I couldn't imagine someone believing it over email. Seemed better to wait."

Clarke nods. "Probably, yeah. So, your sister is fifteen, that means she's a--high-school freshman?"

"Yeah. Her name's Octavia." He grabs his phone and pulls up a picture of himself with a pretty, long-haired teenage girl, arms around each other, wind ruffling his curls. "Her dad died when she was three, and Mom was never been around much, so I've been taking care of her forever. But I'm basically broke with student debt and in the middle of getting my teaching certification. It's not like--" He runs his hand through his hair. "I'm taking care of her. I've got a budget worked out, even if I don't rent the room. I'm used to getting by without much money. But--the marriage would help a lot to make me look stable, apparently." He puts his head down on the table. "Okay, yeah, I sound like a crazy person."

"A lot less than I expected. How old are you?"

"Twenty-four. Like I said, I'm getting my teacher's certification, I'm about halfway done. I work at Star Market and this bar in the South End on the side, and I start student teaching in the fall. And you're--"

"Twenty-two, about to graduate from college. I've got a job lined up doing art therapy, but, um. My dad passed away last year, I had a falling out with my mom, so I'm working with less money than I've ever had and no safety net. So--yeah. You had the cheapest rent. And the weirdest story."

"Sorry about your dad," he offers.

"Yeah, it was a shitty year. For both of us, apparently." She wets her lips. "So, did you have a plan for how the marriage would work?"

"Ideally we'd do it as soon as possible," he says. "You'd, um, probably have to at least look like you live in my room. We do have another room, you could leave some of your stuff there, but--I'd want to make it look real until the adoption is finalized. We'd maintain separate bank accounts, obviously, but I think they'd still need to see your finances and stuff, and hear you'd be around as a backup adult as needed." He wets his lips. "Basically, you'd move in, give me some money for rent and groceries, help me with CPS, and in return you'd get a place to stay, I'll cook for you, and--yeah. Landlord you have to commit fraud with, I guess. No childcare, don't worry. I mean, obviously, uh, O would be around, and I assume you guys would interact, but I'm doing all the parenting. And we'd have to keep it up, um--I don't really know the timeline. Until I get custody, for sure, so--two years, minimum, probably. Until I'm stabilized, and then you could give her to me in the divorce or something."

She maybe shouldn't believe him. He could be some kind of con man, using his good looks to trick her. But--it seems like such a stupidly complicated scam, for no real value she can figure out. And he looks so nervous. And maybe a little hopeful.

"Okay," she says, as much to herself as to him. "I want to meet your sister. With my friend Wells, so he doesn't freak out. See the house. Talk to your lawyer. In-character, obviously, just--I'm your girlfriend, we weren't planning to get married this soon, but with the custody thing, it makes sense, and we can ask about the legal ramifications of, you know, if we decided it wasn't working and needed to get divorced before she's eighteen, what I'd need to do, all that. And I'm in the dorm through the end of the semester, another three weeks, so I don't know if we'd want to do anything before then. But assuming all that goes well--" She takes a breath, but she feels shockingly good about the decision. She could still wake up in the morning asking herself what she's doing, but--she needs a place to live, and Bellamy Blake needs someone to move in with him so he can get custody of his sister. The rent is cheap, and the location of the house is great for her new job, and, okay, yeah, he does want her to commit fraud with him, but it's fraud for a good cause. "Yeah," she says, voice steady. "If that goes well, I could probably marry you."

"Are you filming this?" he asks, squinting at her. "Like--is this for a TV show where you find people on Craigslist who want weird shit and pretend to agree to it and then tell them it's a prank once you've gotten their hopes up?"

Clarke snorts. "That was actually my friend's theory on you," she says.

"Yeah?"

"Once he saw you, yeah. I was thinking it was some kind of fetish thing."

"Is that really a fetish?" 

"I've been on the internet enough that I assume everything is a fetish at this point," Clarke says. She wets her lips, strangely nervous. "So, um, do you--does that sound okay?"

"What?'

"I meet your sister, we check in with the lawyer and--"

"Oh, yeah, god, of course," he says, and laughs. "Uh, honestly, I still can't believe you're even considering it."

"Yeah, neither can I," she admits. "But we can see how it goes."

*

Wells insists on looking up the house on Google Maps, just to make sure it's a real place, which doesn't make much sense to Clarke, but it seems to make him feel better, so she doesn't object. He also insists on bringing Raven, because she's better in a fight than he is, and Clarke doesn't object to that either. If she ends up living with and marrying Bellamy, her friends are probably going to meet him, so it might as well be a party.

Octavia opens the door and cocks her head. "Okay, which one of you is Clarke?" she asks, looking between the three of them. "Bell said it was a girl but seriously it could plausibly be any of you."

"Me," says Clarke, raising her hand. "You're Octavia?"

"Huh," says Octavia, ignoring the question. She stares at Clarke for a minute and then at Raven. "You're more Bell's type," she tells Raven.

"Jesus Christ, O, what are you doing?" Bellamy appears next to her, hooks his arm around his sister's neck to drag her away from the door. "Be nice."

"Just saying," Octavia says, unrepentant. "Nice to meet you, Clarke. Other people."

"This is my friend Wells and his girlfriend Raven," Clarke says. "They're here in case you guys try to murder me."

"We won't try to murder you until you've moved in!" says Octavia. "We're luring you into a false sense of security."

"You know we want this to _work_ , right, O? We need the rent. And the fake marriage. You understand this, right?"

"Yeah. She thinks it's funny. I'm totally cute and charming." She beams at Clarke. "You guys want to come in? Bell's been cleaning all day. He wants to make such a good impression. That's why I thought you were probably Clarke," she adds to Raven. "Cuz, you know. Hot."

"Thanks," Raven says. "I love when fifteen-year-olds hit on me on their brothers' behalf in front of my boyfriend. Especially when said brothers might fake-marry my friends. Can we come in?"

"Yeah, this is definitely not going to get any better if you don't come in," says Bellamy, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm Bellamy, this is my sister Octavia, it's nice to meet you guys. And good to see you again, Clarke. Come on in. Do you want drinks or anything?"

Bellamy gives them coffee and shows them around, although Raven only makes it to the living room before she spots a Sega Dreamcast, and she, Wells, and Octavia splinter off to play Mortal Kombat, leaving Bellamy and Clarke alone. Clarke assumes that means they've decided he's not going to murder her, or possibly that Raven is just more interested in old video games than Clarke's life. Probably both, knowing Raven's feelings on video games.

She likes the house, overall; it's small, rundown, and a little cramped, but in kind of a nice way. But what Bellamy tries to call the third bedroom was clearly not really intended to be a bedroom, and when Clarke points it out, he admits that he and Octavia shared the second bedroom until he went to college, and the third bedroom was the computer room. Now that he's home, he's moved into the master bedroom and figured they could maybe make some cash on the old computer room.

"Yeah, you weren't gonna be able to rent that to an adult," Clarke tells him, smiling.

"You could fit a single bed in there," he grumbles.

"No wonder the rent is so cheap. The options are sleeping with you or sleeping in a closet."

"I wanted to make sleeping with me look really appealing." His mouth twitches up in a small smile. "Sorry about Octavia. She thinks you're scamming me."

"How would I be scamming you? You put up the ad, not me. And you apparently don't have any money. I don't even know what I'd be scamming you for."

He ducks his head, laughing. "Awesome, I'm not even worth scamming. Thanks."

"If we're getting married, I should be honest with you, right?"

"We're still getting married? The house and my sister haven't scared you off yet?"

"Is it weird that they haven't?"

"It's still weird to me that you're thinking about it in the first place," he admits. "But if you still are I'm not going to argue with it. You, uh--" He jerks his head. "I'll show you the actual bedroom? I promise it's better than the computer closet."

"Sure," she says, and follows him into his--their?--room.

Unlike the closet, the master bedroom is actually decently sized and really nice. The bed is large, with pale blue sheets look soft and clean, and the whole room is full of natural light and worn books. She sits down on the bed, testing the bounce, and Bellamy leans against the door frame, watching her.

"This is going to go really badly, isn't it?" he asks.

"Oh yeah," she agrees. "Complete disaster." She toes off her shoes and lies back on the bed, stretching out. "Have you thought this though?"

"Not really."

"At least you're honest." 

There's a pause, and then he lies down next to her, like he needs to test it out too. The bed is large enough they don't have to touch at all, but Clarke can feel the vague heat coming off him.

He doesn't seem inclined to say any more on that subject, or any others. Apparently it's up to her. "So, no actual girlfriend?" 

"No one serious since college. Mostly just one-night stuff. And none of that for a while with, uh--everything. You?"

"Same," she says. "I mean, obviously, I'm still in college, but I haven't had a girlfriend since sophomore year. Last boyfriend was the end of last year and it was a disaster, and then my dad, so--yeah. Single for a while."

"What kind of disaster?"

"He had another girlfriend. After she graduated, she moved here, came early to surprise him, found us making out. There was a huge blowup. But we both dumped him and now we're friends and she's dating Wells, so--"

"Raven? Seriously?"

"Yup."

"Wow."

"Yeah, it was not a good plan on his part. So, yeah. No boyfriend, no girlfriend. For a while."

"And you're willing to not have one for the foreseeable future? Just to save on rent?"

"Not just to save on rent," she admits. "You seem like a good guy--"

"Yeah, definitely not," he says, and she laughs and nudges him with her foot.

"Okay, well, you seem like a decent guy who's having a really shitty time. This is my good karma for the rest of my life, right?"

"Nope. Not buying it. No way. I want a better reason."

"I don't know why, honestly. This last year sucked. I lost my entire family, and--I don't want you to lose yours. If I can help, I will. And it'll be fine. We get married for a few years, I get a good place to live and an awesome story to tell people. And I wanted a break from dating anyway. But this way no one will pressure me about it." She glances at him. "You don't mind being single for the next few years?"

"Yeah, uh, I figured adopting O would tank my sex life anyway. I work two jobs, I'm in school, I'm getting a dependent. My life is already a mess, I doubt it's going to make much of a difference."

"It totally is," Clarke tells him.

"Okay, yeah, it is. But it's worth it." He glances at her, and Clarke gives him a supportive smile. "So, we're doing this?" he asks.

"What's the worst that can happen?"

"Fraud charges, jail time?"

"Can you really get put in jail for marrying someone to help with an adoption? Or is it just green cards?"

"I don't actually know if that's actually jail time either," he admits. "I should maybe do some research on con marriages instead of just watching romantic comedies with O and assuming they're accurate to life."

"Hey, if you can't trust romantic comedies, who can you trust?"

"Exactly." He rolls off the bed and goes over to the dresser, opening up a drawer and tossing a box at her. "You want a ring?"

"Wow," she says. "You're quite a romantic." She opens the box, curious. "The ring is really nice, though."

"Family heirloom," he says. "My grandmother's. Lucky for me, because there's no way I could afford to buy you one."

" _So_ romantic," she teases. "I really lucked out with you."

"Only the most desirable guys drunkenly post on Craigslist looking for wives, yeah," he agrees. He sits down next to her, picks up the ring box. "I can get down on one knee if you want."

"No, that's fine," Clarke says. "Zero effort is one of the advantages of a sham marriage, right?"

"Right," he says. "Want to go play Dreamcast?"

Clarke slides the ring on, just so she can get used to it. It's pretty, and it fits her. Looks good on her, even. "Yeah," she says. "Dreamcast sounds fun."

*

Clarke marries Bellamy Blake on a Tuesday between classes, at the courthouse. Raven comes along to be a witness and also try to talk her out of it.

"Just ask him out," Raven says.

"Why would I ask him out?"

"Because he's hot and you clearly want to make out with him," Raven says. "We all want to make out with him. Wells kind of wants to make out with him."

"He did say guys were okay in his ad, Wells should go for it." She lets the statement stand for a beat and then adds, "I don't want to make out with him. Apparently you're his type, so if you want to marry him instead--"

"Seriously, Clarke. You know this is nuts, right? You've met this guy twice, and you're marrying him. He could still murder you."

"So you want me to date my potential murderer?"

"It's better than marrying him." She puts her arm around Clarke's shoulders. "Finn didn't fuck you up this bad, did he? Because he's been my friend for years and, trust me, he's not worth it."

"It's not about Finn. He's a nice guy who needs help."

"So give him fifty bucks, don't get shotgun married to him. If you need cheap rent this much, you can just live on my futon."

"That sounds like it's a lot worse for my back. And--seriously, I'm good with this. It's just like having a couple roommates, but--more charitable."

"Well, when you realize you married a stranger from Craigslist, my futon will still be available."

"Thanks," says Clarke. "You're a good friend."

Bellamy looks nice, which Clarke is not going to think about. She doesn't want to make out with him, she just thinks he's cute. And she likes him. He's a good guy. 

"Hi," he says. "Ready to get married?"

"Raven says I should live on her couch instead."

"She's probably right." He offers his hand, and Clarke takes it. "But I'm really glad you're not."

It's a quick, easy ceremony; Bellamy puts his grandmother's ring back on Clarke's finger, and Clarke gives him the cheap one she insisted on buying for him, even though he said he could afford one. Her dad left her some money; she can afford a ring better than he can.

He presses a quick, dry kiss to her mouth, and then it's over, and she's back on campus in under an hour. It feels like there should be a little more fanfare, but--it's not like she's really _married_.

They'd been as honest as possible with the lawyer; their official story is that they've been dating since September, and they wouldn't be getting married if not for Octavia, but they care about each other and marriage was something they'd been thinking about for the future anyway. The custody thing is just speeding up the timeline. Bellamy's lawyer thought it was a good idea, which was a relief, and told them to do it sooner rather than later, even if Clarke wasn't moving in until after finals.

She still feels a little weird about the whole thing, and even weirder because the part that's tripping her up isn't that she's married to a stranger, but instead that she's not living with him yet. But her mom prepaid for her dorm and didn't yank funding, so she's taking advantage of free room and board for as long as possible.

Still, she can't help a swoop of relief when Bellamy calls at four, after he finishes with his own classes.

"Hey, what's up?"

"O says it's pathetic that we're not doing _anything_ to celebrate our marriage, so, um, do you want to come over for dinner? I'll even buy something nice if you tell me what you like."

"You don't have to."

"No, but I'm cooking anyway, so I might as well get a little extra and invite you over. You can start bringing your stuff, and then we don't have to rent a moving truck. Or not, just--" He lets out a breath, like he's been rehearsing this part. "I'd like to have you over. If you want to come."

"Yeah, of course," says Clarke. "When should I come by?"

"I'm on my way to the store, so I'll be home in like forty-five minutes. But O's around, she said she'll play hostess if you show up early."

Clarke is pretty sure that's fifteen-year-old for _I want her to come over before you're home_ , so she nods, and then remembers she's on the phone. "Cool. I'll grab some stuff and head over."

He lets out another breath, relieved this time. "Awesome. See you soon."

He gave her a key after they met with the lawyer, but Clarke still knocks on the door and lets Octavia be the one to let her in. She contemplates Clarke for a minute, looking her over, and then asks, "So, should I be treating you more like a mother or an older sister?"

"I was thinking uncle you only see on major holidays," Clarke says, and Octavia cracks a smile.

"I don't have any other family. Probably not a surprise. So that's not a relationship I've experienced."

"Yeah, that makes sense. It means we're pretty awkward and I buy you presents to try to make you like me."

"Cool, sounds good. How's married life?"

"Just as glamorous as I heard. Maybe even more. Can your brother actually cook, or is this dinner going to be a disaster?"

"No, he's a good cook. He basically raised me most of my life."

Clarke nods. "He mentioned that. That's--really cool."

Octavia snorts. "It's not. It fucking _sucks_. He's twenty-four, he's not supposed to be doing any of this stuff. And that's been his whole life. He was taking care of me when he was my age, and I can't even--" She huffs. "It's shitty, that Bell has to do what he does."

"Like marrying a stranger he found on the internet?" 

"Nothing personal," says Octavia, with a slightly awkward shrug. "But--yeah. It sucks that he decided he has to get married just to keep me. And I can't even--I wouldn't want him to lose custody, so I couldn't tell him not to. You seem cool, at least, but--yeah."

"No, I get it." It's the kind of thing that probably should have occurred to Clarke, but she doesn't have any siblings, and she just sort of figured this was--not _normal_ , no part of it was normal, but Bellamy just made it sound like what anyone would do. And, yeah, in retrospect, it's probably pretty impressive, actually. Clarke's doing him a favor; Bellamy's the one who's apparently given up most of his life for his sister. She lets out a breath and says, "I didn't mean cool, like--you're really lucky that he stepped up. And he's really amazing for doing it. Globally, yeah, it's awful that he has to, and I wish he didn't."

"You're benefiting," Octavia says, but it's not all the way to accusatory. More curious.

"I am getting cheap rent. And I get to sleep with a hot guy. So, yeah, I'm definitely winning this." She risks giving Octavia's shoulder a friendly squeeze. "Look, all I really want is to help your brother out. Having a place to live is great, but--if I didn't want to help him, I wouldn't have agreed."

"You don't even know us."

"Yeah, but--he's _really_ hot," she teases, and Octavia laughs.

They're setting up Clarke's Wii on their wifi so they can watch Netflix when Octavia says, "Bell said something bad happened with your family, but he didn't know exactly what. And that's why you wanted to help."

"My dad died. And my mom--she and I had a pretty bad falling out."

"Why?"

Part of her feels as if she should tell Bellamy first, but--he'll find out later. And Octavia's the one who needs convincing about her. "She's a doctor. She was the one who did the surgery on him after the accident. And I know it's not her fault he didn't make it, she did everything she could. But I decided I didn't want to be a doctor after that. I was already into med school and I just--I don't want to do what she does. And I guess she thought I was rejecting her and everything she stands for because I blame her for his death, and she cut me off. I've tried to talk to her about it a few times, but--my dad always kind of mediated, and it's been so hard without him."

"So that's why you need a cheap place to live?"

"Unfortunately, yeah," says Clarke. "I'm assuming we'll work it out at some point, and then I'll ruin it in like five minutes when I tell her I got married."

"You really don't have your life together, do you?"

"Nope. People who have their lives together don't marry strangers from the internet. But you and your brother are cool and I got this Netflix app working, so you want to watch something?"

Octavia's smile is reluctant, but genuine. "Yeah, we can watch something."

They're on the second episode of 30 Rock when Bellamy gets back, and he blinks at them for a minute and then goes into the kitchen. "Dinner in like an hour," he says. "O, set the table at some point before then."

"You're not my dad, Bell!" she says, like this is a normal thing for them.

"Thank god!" he calls back, and Clarke waits for the third episode to start before she goes into the kitchen.

"Did you need help with anything?" she offers. He's got the wedding ring on, she can't help noticing, and it does funny things to her chest. She's _married_. It doesn't mean anything, or, well, not the things it's supposed to mean. But it's real and legal and binding, and they'd have to go to some trouble to undo it. 

"You're the guest," he says, smiling over his shoulder.

"I'm really not. Legally, I'm family. What are we having?"

"Chicken and rice," he says. "It makes good leftovers. And it's pretty hands-off, so, seriously, you don't have to help."

"Okay. But--you don't owe me anything."

"Sorry?" he asks, sounding genuinely perplexed.

Crossing her arms, she leans against the counter next to him. "We made an agreement. You're getting something, I'm getting something. You need to stop acting like I'm doing you a favor." She schools her expression into seriousness. "Marriage is a partnership, Bellamy."

He looks at her for a second, and then he lets out a small snort of laughter. "Okay, fine. Wash the rice for me."

*

Clarke's meal plan lasts through finals, but she doesn't actually have much to do, academically speaking, so she hangs out more at Bellamy and Octavia's, when one or both of the Blakes are home. It's nice; she brings her stuff over in shifts and gets used to being around them. For the first few days, they seem to think they have to hang out with her, but Clarke breaks her laptop out and works on her political science final paper with such determination that even Bellamy gives up on trying to make her feel welcome.

By the time she's moving in, they're pretty much good with each other, and she genuinely likes them. It's far from a normal roommate situation, but Bellamy and Octavia are obviously close, easy together, and once they stop worrying about impressing her, they're easy with her too. Octavia is fifteen, which means she spends most of her time in her room, and Bellamy seems to be naturally quiet, preferring to sit on the couch with Clarke and work on his own finals to trying to talk. Raven and Wells help her bring in the last of her stuff on move-in day, and Bellamy makes dinner for everyone. They play video games and laugh and it's good. It feels completely and totally doable.

Then, she has to go to sleep.

Clarke's never shared a bed with anyone in a particularly sustained sense; she's crashed a few times with people, girlfriends and boyfriends or one-night stands, but even that didn't happen that often, because it's college and everyone has cramped single beds, and it just didn't seem worth it to be uncomfortably wedged against someone when she had a bed of her own.

Now, she doesn't have a bed of her own. She just has Bellamy's bed, and while it's large and soft, it's still kind of--weird.

Bellamy seems to feel the same way.

"So, um, I usually sleep in boxers," he says. "Is that cool? I can do, uh, shirt and pajama pants, if you want. Or, you know. A full suit of armor. Whatever you're comfortable with."

"You have a full suit of armor?"

"No, just a couple pieces I bought in high-school, before I realized I should save all my money. I tried to sell them on eBay but I never got a good enough offer that it was worth it. So I could do bracers and greaves."

She has to smile. "Well, I'm just gonna wear a night shirt. You can do whatever you want."

"Okay, cool," he says, and strips off his t-shirt and jeans without any further preamble. Clarke doesn't stare, because she's an adult, but Bellamy is--hot. Really hot. Miles of tan skin and huge arms and very defined abs, and it's definitely inappropriate of Clarke to check him out. Just because he's her husband doesn't mean she should check him out. Not given the actual state of their marriage.

It's tempting to go change in the bathroom, but they're married, and they're planning to be married for at least another year or two, so it seems pointless to try to keep him from ever witnessing her in any state of undress. It's inevitable.

But she does take her bra off under her shirt. Just--it seems like the right call for tonight. And then, before she can think about it any harder about it, she slides into bed.

There's a pause, and then the light switches off and Bellamy gets in next to her. The last time she shared a bed with someone she wasn't also fucking, she was in a hotel room for a school trip, sharing a queen with her friend Erin. She wasn't at all attracted to Erin, but she was still hyper-aware of her, guilty every time she shifted, every time she even _twitched_. She'd ended up barely sleeping.

"Okay," Bellamy finally says, into the silence. "Ground rules."

"Ground rules?"

"We're both going to move in the night," he says. "We might touch each other. I'll probably fart or something. I don't think I snore?"

Clarke smiles. "Me neither. But I kind of toss and turn when I'm trying to get to sleep."

"Okay. Sometimes my dick is hard when I wake up."

"I had no idea that happened because I've never slept with a guy in my entire life and had no sex ed and no male friends who complain about how inconvenient erections are."

"Cool, I'm glad I get to educate you. Anything else?"

"Not yet, but I haven't gotten a lot of chances to share beds. So I'll probably just fuck it up."

"Good, I'm glad we had this talk." He shifts a little, and it's not that noticeable, so Clarke rolls over onto her side, facing away from him. "Night, Clarke," he says.

"Night, Bellamy."

Really, though, it's totally uneventful. It takes her a while to get to sleep, but once she is, she sleeps soundly, and when she wakes up, she's on her side of the bed, and he's on his.

It's kind of disappointing, if she's honest. Some part of her was hoping she'd wake up with Bellamy's arms around her, the two of them having tangled together in the night. He looks like he'd be great for cuddling.

Instead, his alarm goes off and he groans, turns it off, and pulls himself out of bed, grabbing a pile of clothes and staggering into the shower so he can get to work.

Clarke stares up at the ceiling, heart beating hard for no very good reason.

This is her life now. She did it. She married a guy from Craigslist, and now she's going to live with it.

*

Bellamy and Octavia come to her graduation, which is sweet of them, if a little weird. Her mother doesn't come, so it's just the two of them and Raven for people specifically supporting her, and Raven is supporting Wells too, so she only gets half credit for that. It feels better than being all alone. Afterward, the five of them go to dinner, and Clarke even talks Bellamy out of paying, because Raven is an engineer and makes way more money than she needs, and she loves being able to treat people to things.

It's nice, companionable, easy, and Clarke feels optimistic about her post-college future in a way she hasn't since all the family stuff went down. She's coming out of college with a peer group. Granted, it consists of her best friend, the girl her ex-boyfriend was using her to cheat on, her fake husband, and her fake husband's baby sister, but still. She has friends she cares about.

"So, have you consummated your marriage yet?" Raven asks, once Bellamy and Octavia have taken off because they've got school and work the next day.

"It's not a real marriage," Clarke says. "So, no."

"You could still fuck him, though. If you're married and you're not getting any from anyone else, you might as well, right? What else are you doing?"

"Not making it weird with sex."

"Uh, usually I don't agree with Raven about your sex life," Wells says, "but I think it might honestly be weirder without sex."

"It's not. It's honestly shocking how not weird it is," she admits. "We're pretty normal. It's only been a few weeks, but--I don't know. Aside from sharing a bed, I don't think it's that different from having regular roommates."

"You haven't had to talk to social services yet?" Raven asks.

"Not for another couple weeks. But Octavia meets with her social worker once a week and she says he thinks this is good for Bellamy's chances of adopting, so--I guess it's working."

"And if it does work, how long do you stay married?"

"Depends on how much it sucks. At least until Bellamy's done with grad school and has a full-time job. Maybe just until Octavia's eighteen."

Raven and Wells exchange a look, and Wells is the one who says, "You're really going to stay married to a guy for three years as--Clarke, you're not even friends with him."

"I think we count as friends at this point." She rubs her face. "Look, we haven't figured it out yet. But we're not--sleeping together would just be stupid. And you heard Octavia, I'm not his type anyway. So our marriage will remain cold and loveless."

They exchange another look, and it makes Clarke feel a little wistful, that her two closest friends have this connection and she's excluded without really being excluded. She's never had a relationship like that, and she guesses she won't, as long as she's married to Bellamy.

"Let's get drinks," Raven declares. "You guys graduated. We should celebrate."

She's pleasantly tipsy when she gets home, and Bellamy is already asleep. She's as quiet as she can be getting ready for bed herself, stripping down and finding her sleep shirt and clean underwear before sliding in next to him. He _still_ feels warm, even with a foot of space between them, of course. So because he's asleep and she's drunk enough to admit that she likes him, she rolls into his side, tucking herself against him.

He makes a sleepy noise and stirs, but all he does is shift closer to her and let out a soft sigh, so she closes her eyes and lets herself sleep.

His alarm goes off at eight the next morning and Clarke burrows against him, annoyed. She hears him chuckle, and then he squeezes her shoulders and presses his lips against her hair before he disentangles himself and goes to get ready for work.

*

Clarke starts work herself a week after she graduates, and her life falls into a strange kind of order. Bellamy has a summer semester to finish off his degree before he starts teaching at an actual high school in fall, so he's not actually around that much, between classes and his jobs at the grocery store and the bar. Octavia is working too, and it's pretty rare that two of them are together for more than an hour or two at a time, let alone all three of them. But it's not bad. Clarke is comfortable in the house and with both of the Blakes, and she still sees a lot of Raven and Wells. She hangs out with Bellamy and his best friend, Miller, at the bar when Octavia has other plans, and even bonds with a couple of her coworkers. 

It's still weird, of course, because when her favorite coworker Monty spots her ring, he wants to hear all about Bellamy and their relationship. She knows all her lines--she's told the story the two of them came up with about the timeline of their relationship more than once--but she's not prepared for how fond she is of him. It's possible she's developing a very small crush on her husband, and it's really obvious when she talks about him.

"He sounds awesome," Monty says. "I can't wait to meet him."

"He's working at the bar tomorrow, you should come by," she responds without thinking, and nearly kicks herself. But it's too late to take it back.

When she gets home, Bellamy is on the couch playing Shenmue, and she flops down next to him with a groan.

"Rough day at the office, honey?" he asks, absent.

"I told my friend to come to the bar and meet you tomorrow."

"Yeah, that's a disaster," he says, which Clarke assumes means he hasn't really thought it through.

When he doesn't say anything else, she pokes him. "He thinks we're _really married_."

"And?"

"And we've never actually hung out with anyone who thinks we're a real couple. Everyone else knows it's a sham. We have to figure out how to act like we're married."

"Oh, yeah. That's probably good, though. I've been meaning to anyway."

"Yeah?"

"CPS is probably going to expect us to act less like roommates, and more like a married couple, so--what do couples act like?"

Clarke laughs. "You have had a girlfriend before, right?"

"Yeah, but never a wife." He wets his lips. "You could, uh--kiss me when you see me? Like, in public? Or I kiss you? That's a couple thing, right?"

"Probably a newlywed thing, at least," she agrees. "Just, like--pause the game."

He does and turns to her, and Clarke leans over to press her mouth against his. It's not the first time they've kissed, but the kiss at the wedding barely counts, and it should look like they do it a lot.

"A little less tense," he murmurs, so _close_ , and slides his hand up to cup her cheek. His kiss is quick and affectionate, perfect, and Clarke leans back in to try to copy it. The trade short, soft kisses, getting used to it, until it feels natural.

"Better?" she asks.

"Yeah," he says. "We probably don't have to do, um--"

"Anything more serious than that?" Clarke asks, giving him a small smile. He really has a lot of freckles, it's distracting.

"No one likes public making out, yeah," he says. "And I think we're mostly pretty believable." He clears his throat, seems to realize he's still got his hand on her face and drops it, pulling back and starting his game again. "We're comfortable together and we like each other, right?"

"Right. Maybe a little more casual affection? Like--we could touch each other more."

"Sure," says Bellamy. He flashes her a cocky grin that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Feel free to touch me as much as you want."

"You're not even a little worried about this?"

He ducks his head. "Yeah, uh, all my non-Miller coworkers believe you're my wife. They're mostly just pissed at me for not introducing you before we got married. I'm not really that concerned your coworkers are going to be more suspicious than mine."

"So are they going to think it's weird I'm only just starting to kiss you?"

"Nah, I'll just tell them you saw a girl hitting on me."

"So I'm jealous and possessive?" she asks. 

"Or, you know. Decided there's no reason not to be affectionate." He presses his lips to her temple, and she remembers, hazily, him kissing her hair in bed last month. Neither of them ever mentioned Clarke's single attempt at cuddling, and neither of them has ever tried to recreate it, but she keeps wanting to, even though it feels dangerous.

Still, he does put his arm around her on the couch, and she lets herself lean into it. It's just--good practice. For the next however many years of pretending to be married to him.

And when she and Monty get to the bar the next night, she kisses him, quick and fond, a little peck hello, and she wouldn't really mind, honestly, if she had to do that every time she saw him with Monty around.

*

Bellamy gets the court date for the Octavia's adoption hearing five months after he and Clarke get married, and Clarke has a minor breakdown about it.

"I didn't--we're _married_ ," she tells Raven. She might also be drunk.

"Yeah, that was literally the entire idea," Raven says.

"But that means--if Bellamy adopts her and something happens to him, she's my responsibility. I always sort of thought of it as, like--Bellamy's thing. I help him adopt her, but he's doing the adopting."

"Have you talked to him about it?"

"Not yet. I don't want him to think I want to bail."

"Yeah, I can see where he might start thinking that." Raven considers her. "You know this isn't going away, right? She's not even sixteen yet. Even if you get divorced--"

"Yeah, I know." She rubs her face. "It's not like--I love Octavia."

"And you love Bellamy."

"Not like you're thinking," she says, petulant. "Seriously, don't get started on that. But--yeah, I do. He's one of my best friends and I still want to do this for him. It just kind of hit me what I'm taking on."

"It's not all sleeping with him and fake kissing." But she tempers the statement by giving Clarke a half-hug around the shoulders. "It's really cool, what you're doing for them. And you guys can probably even make it work. Just--talk to him. I think you can probably talk about your feelings without making him think you're going to dump him. Also, maybe just work in that you're totally into him and want to make out, while you're at it. More efficient."

"That's just going to make it more complicated," Clarke says. "This is a business arrangement."

"It's really not. But sure, keep on denying your stupid feelings. It's funny for me."

"Cheers," says Clarke, and downs another shot.

When she finally drags herself home, Bellamy is still awake, sitting in bed shirtless, reading, which is really, really a lot to handle in her inebriated state. There's just something about hot, smart guys with freckles and glasses and messy hair. 

"Have fun with Raven?" he asks, giving her a smile that widens as he takes her in. "Wow, you're drunk."

"Shut up." She manages to tug her shirt off and her bra, and only belatedly realizes she didn't get a shirt first, and has to root around to find one. She slides out of her jeans and flops down next to him, snuggling in against him. He's _so shirtless_.

"You're right, you're completely sober," he says. "I can't believe I couldn't tell."

"What are you reading?"

"Textbook review for Monday," he says. "Everything okay?"

"Everything is _awesome_. We're gonna have a _kid_."

"Is this a, uh--I guess _virgin_ birth isn't the right word, but I'm pretty sure I'm not the dad."

"I meant Octavia."

"I think we already have Octavia." He closes the book and looks at her, obviously concerned. "Seriously, what happened? Why are you so drunk?"

"If we adopt her, she's _ours_. We're married, I'm adopting her too. Are you sure you're okay with that?"

"Am _I_ okay with that? Clarke, she's been mine forever, of course I'm--"

"If something happened to you, I'd get her. Or if--you're giving me _your sister_. She's going to be my responsibility too. Do you get that? You barely even know me."

He doesn't say anything for a minute, long enough Clarke starts to worry, but then he laughs, sudden, and wraps his arms around her, tugging her close. "Jesus. I know you, Clarke. And, yeah, I trust you with Octavia. Of course I trust you. You're smart and you love her and you're always taking care of her."

"Why?"

"That doesn't really follow from anything I said," he tells her, amused. "I'm not sure what you're asking me."

"Why did you pick me? You didn't know me when you married me."

"Yeah, it was kind of reckless," he admits. "But--I had a good feeling about you. You weren't scared of Octavia, and you're--I dunno. I got the impression that you wouldn't give up on something once you committed to it."

"I don't," Clarke says.

"But if you want out, you should tell me," he says. "I get it if you're--"

Her own arms tighten around him, and she closes her eyes and rests her head on his chest. "I don't want out. I just wanted to get drunk and freak out."

"Mission accomplished." He kisses the top of her head. "Do you need water or food or something?"

"No. Stay here."

His thumb strokes her shoulder. "You know you don't have to be drunk to do this, right?"

"Do what?"

"Touch me."

"I didn't know that," she says. 

She can feel him moving, taking off his glasses and then turning off the light, and he maneuvers them under the covers with care. "Okay, well, uh--I'm looking forward to how hungover you'll be in the morning," he says. "Goodnight, Clarke."

She noses his collarbone. "Night."

*

Bellamy's gone by the time she wakes up, which is a huge disappointment. She was sort of hoping she'd wake up when he did and they'd be tangled together and one thing would lead to another, but--embarrassed and alone is cool too. Even better. Probably less embarrassing than waking up with him, realistically speaking.

Still. She wishes she had.

In the shower, she spends way too long washing her hair and feeling stupid about being sloppy and drunk at him. Not that he really seemed to _mind_ , but she was definitely very affectionate and drunk and weird about adopting his sister, so--yeah. She isn't exactly looking forward to going downstairs, but when she does, he's at the stove in his pajama pants and a tank top, looking very normal.

"How's the hangover?" he asks, offering her a smile.

"Not that bad."

"Well, I'm still giving you bacon and pancakes to absorb it."

She smiles a little. "Thanks."

"Sure." She sees him worrying his lip, which makes her wince. But all he says is, "Do we need to talk about adopting Octavia?"

"I think I'm good."

"You sure?"

"I basically remember what happened last night. I just--" She sits down at the table, swinging her legs. "I guess I never quite put together that you and me were both adopting Octavia. She's yours, not mine."

"Yeah, no, I get that," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "But, um. Yeah. If anything happens to me, there isn't anyone else I'd rather have looking after O. Even if that just means you get her into another home. I know you'd make sure she was okay."

A lump rises in Clarke's throat, and she can't speak for a second. Bellamy loves his sister more than anything; trusting someone with her is the highest compliment he can give.

"Anyway," he continues, his own voice gruff. "Here's coffee and breakfast. You need Advil?"

She wets her lips and manages a pretty normal smile. "No, I'm all set."

*

Clarke's mother calls her on Christmas Eve.

It's a total shock, which--maybe it shouldn't be. She didn't really expect her mother to give up on her entirely, but--it's been over a year since her father died, and she'd thought the call would come on that anniversary, and when it didn't, she'd wondered if maybe it was over, if they were just never going to talk again. But it's Christmas, and Abby is probably lonely. 

"What's wrong?" Bellamy asks. He and Octavia are playing Smash Brothers on Clarke's Wii, because Bellamy has finally decided to move beyond Dreamcast games, but he's distracted enough by whatever her face is doing that Octavia gets a KO on him.

"It's my mom," she says.

"Shit. Are you--how long's it been?"

"Since March." She wets her lips. "I'm gonna go to our room?"

"Yeah, sure. Uh--good luck."

She nods and picks up the call as she heads upstairs. "Hi, Mom."

"Clarke," says Abby, on a breath. "I wasn't sure you were going to answer."

"Just getting some privacy. How are--Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas." There's a pause, and then a strange sound. "I was honestly expecting you to just--show up. For Christmas. I know how ridiculous that sounds, when we haven't talked in months, but--you always come home for Christmas."

Clarke feels bad that it hadn't even crossed her mind. They've been busy with adoption stuff, she's had a lot going on at work, and there's just--she has a family here, and her mother has been clear that she doesn't want to be a part of it. But still, she is Clarke's mother. And she's all alone.

"Yeah, I'm just--here."

"Staying with Wells?"

"No, um--" She rubs her face. "I actually--no. Not with Wells. It's complicated."

"Complicated?"

She flops down on the bed and lets out a long breath. "I met a guy. A few months before Dad died. And--we're actually married."

There's a very long pause, and Clarke lets the silence sit. She doesn't have much else to say about it. "You got married and you didn't even tell me?" her mother breathes.

"It wasn't--it's not like that. His mother passed away and he was having trouble getting custody of his little sister. His lawyer said it wouldn't help that much if I moved in, but it might if we got married. So we did it a lot earlier than we would have if, you know--"

"Earlier," Abby repeats. "You married him _earlier_."

"Yeah, I definitely--he's amazing, Mom. It's a really weird situation, but he's such a great guy. I still--" The words die on her tongue, and she has to swallow before she manages, "I want to spend the rest of my life with him."

"How did you two meet?"

"He's in school for his teaching certificate, we were both at the same library doing research for a few weeks, we chatted a little, and he finally got up the nerve to ask me out. We were just starting out, but then--we both went through the same thing, with his mom dying and Dad, so--it was kind of a trial by fire thing."

"And then you got married. And you have a _child_."

"She's sixteen, she's not really a child. But--yeah. Basically."

"And you didn't tell me."

"You made it clear you weren't interested in my life."

"Clarke, I never--" She sighs. "Of course I'm interested in your life. I just never imagined--what else are you doing?"

Clarke tells her about work, and it's easy to fit Bellamy and Octavia in as--the people she loves. Maybe not a husband, not the way she thinks of husbands, but she's never claimed he's a conventional husband. And for all the other weirdness surrounding their circumstances, she's never had any trouble convincing anyone she adores him.

"I'm so sorry I missed all this," Abby says, and it sounds genuine. "I could have helped. You didn't have to go to such--extremes." 

"I didn't do anything I didn't want to do. And I don't want you trying to fix anything. I'm happy. It's not exactly how I pictured getting married, but--I _am_ happy."

"Then I'm happy for you. And--I'd like to work on this. I know it's been--"

"Yeah," Clarke says. "I'll--" She bites her lip. "I could maybe come down for a couple days. For New Year's."

"I would love that," says Abby, too eager, and something like ice twists in Clarke's chest. "You can bring Bellamy and Octavia, if--"

"I'll see. I can call you tomorrow?"

"I love you, honey."

"I love you too."

She goes downstairs and curls into Bellamy's side, holding on to him so tight she's afraid she'll hurt him. But he doesn't object, just wraps his arms around her. "Hey," he murmurs. "What did she say? Do I need to go kick her ass?"

Clarke laughs, wonders why it feels so much like crying. "No. No, it--I think it went really well. I told her about you and she didn't explode. And she wants to start talking again. It's just--a lot."

"Yeah," he says. "That sounds like a lot."

"I told her I'd try to come down for New Year's."

"Did you mean it?"

"Just for a day or two, yeah. Just--she's my mom. I shouldn't just let her go. We were both having such a shitty time, and now I've got you and Octavia and Wells and Raven and--I don't know if she has anyone, honestly. I came out of it pretty well."

Bellamy snorts. "Pretty well?"

"What, you think I'm not doing well?"

"That's not what I meant, no. I just meant--I doubt this is where you thought you'd be."

"Yeah, me neither. But that doesn't mean my life sucks. My life is awesome."

"Good." She can hear him swallow, and then the pressure of his cheek against her hair as he tugs her closer. "If you just want to hug me, it'd probably be more comfortable in the bed."

"But you and Octavia are playing games."

"Yeah, uh, O left as soon as you climbed into my lap. Don't worry about it."

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize either," he says, shifting and actually gathering her up in his arms as he stands. "I'm sorry stuff with your mom is so stressful."

"At least she's alive," Clarke mutters.

"It's not a competition. Our parents can suck in totally different ways."

Clarke laughs, soft. "Thanks for the pep talk."

"I also do weddings and bar mitzvahs." He puts her down on the bed and then curls around her, warm and close. It's the first time he's ever made the first move with something like this, and it's still not really the first move. But Clarke loves being wrapped up in him, feeling warm and safe and loved. "Tell me if you need anything else."

"No," she murmurs. "This is it."

When she goes downstairs to grab water, after he's fallen asleep, she finds Octavia there too, apparently getting a snack.

"Santa won't come if you're awake," Clarke tells her, and Octavia doesn't crack a smile.

"I heard you talking to your mom," she says, and tension races all up and down Clarke's back. "Not on purpose, I was going to the bathroom. But--you said you want to spend the rest of your life with Bell."

"Oh."

"Did you mean it? Or were you just--" She huffs. "Did you mean it?" she asks again.

There were plenty of parts of the conversation Octavia could have heard that would have been nothing remarkable. Just as truthful, without making Clarke feel ripped open.

"Yeah," she says. "I--he's really important to me. You know that."

Octavia keeps looking at her for a long minute, but then she nods, even smiles a little. "Cool. Merry Christmas, Clarke."

"You too."

*

"How's New York? Can you see the ball? Did you get its autograph?"

Clarke smiles, relaxes into her bed, which feels small and empty instead of familiar like it used to. It's her first time ever talking to Bellamy on the phone, she realizes. They've been married for seven months and they've never had to call each other. "I'm not really looking."

"But you're so close. You could try to be on TV."

"Yeah, that's always been my dream. How are you guys doing?"

"Fine. Octavia's at a party."

Clarke frowns. "Are you at least with Miller?"

"No, I'm alone. Don't panic."

"But--you're alone!"

"So are you," he says, amused. "I bet your mom isn't even awake."

"No. She never stays up past ten."

"So, seriously, how's New York?"

"Tall."

He laughs. "Okay, I was using New York as code for your mom. Is she tall? I never pictured her tall."

"No, she's about my height. She's--awkward. We had a long talk about how my not becoming a doctor made her feel worse about my dad's death, and how I never really wanted to be a doctor in the first place. She made me promise to have a wedding ceremony she could come to at some point."

"Did you?"

"Yeah."

"Huh."

"It's not like you can't have a ceremony after you're already married. Especially since--" She swallows. "When you don't have a ceremony."

There's a long pause, and then he says, voice a little strange, "Yeah, you can do that."

Clarke sort of assumed Octavia would tell Bellamy--something. About what she heard. But nothing's changed. They're still friends, they still hang out and joke around with each other, and she still can't bring herself to settle into his arms at night without alcohol or some crisis. It's not that she thinks he doesn't feel the same way; she thinks he probably does. It still just freaks her out. She's so serious about him, even aside from being married to him. It's never been like this before.

"One minute to midnight," he says.

"Any resolutions?"

"I just do the same one every year. Be less of a mess than last year."

Clarke laughs. "Yeah? How often do you get there?"

"Honestly, I can't decide most of the time. What about you?"

"I like yours. I'll steal it."

"It's not stealing if we're married. We have joint custody. Ten seconds."

Clarke wishes, suddenly, desperately, that she was with him, that she'd have an excuse to kiss him. Not that she doesn't kiss him sometimes, when they're in public, but it would be nice to have an excuse to do it when it might go somewhere.

"Happy New Year," she says instead.

"You know they say what you're doing at midnight on New Year's is what you're going to do for the rest of the year," he observes.

"It's definitely not. We never talk on the phone."

He laughs. "Yeah, this is really out of character for us." Another pause, and then he asks, "When do you get home again?"

"Tomorrow night."

"Good."

She has breakfast with her mother and it's still awkward, this strange process of learning how to be just the two of them, without her father as a buffer. Abby clearly wants to know about Bellamy and Octavia but doesn't feel like she can ask too much, and Clarke manages to give her a good deal of information about them indirectly. And when she leaves, her mother hugs her and tells her how happy she is that Clarke is doing well.

And she really is.

It's already evening by the time Clarke gets home, so she heads directly to the bar. She hugs Wells and Ravens, pecks them both on the cheek and wishes them a happy New Year, and when Bellamy comes out of the back, she tugs him down for a _real_ kiss, fast, but with a quick swipe of her tongue before she pulls back. It's enough to have him looking dazed.

"I missed midnight," she says, feeling herself flush a little.

His grin is huge and bright. "I'm just glad it was you, I thought some random patron wanted to make out." he leans down and brushes his lips against hers again, soft and all too brief. "Welcome home. Do you need a drink?"

"No, I'm fine. I just want a drink. For non-therapeutic reasons."

"Just because you're an alcoholic, then?"

"Exactly."

Back at their table, Raven looks at her for a long minute, and then smacks the back of Clarke's head.

"I missed you too."

"Seriously, you have got to hit that."

"I'm going to," Clarke says, glancing back at him behind the bar. "This is definitely my year."

*

When she's still trying to figure out how to ask her husband out on a date, someone else starts hitting on her, to her total confusion.

She's at the bar, sketching and chatting with Bellamy when he passes, when a woman sits down next to her. She's got an awesome tattoo on her forearm, this intricate twining vine of ivy, and Clarke compliments it because she always appreciates an awesome tattoo. They start talking, and Clarke learns that the woman is named Lexa, she's a lawyer, and she just moved to Boston. Bellamy looks kind of irritated, but Bellamy always looks kind of irritated, so Clarke doesn't think much of it. It's a pretty busy night, so he's not around much anyway; she's happy to have someone to hang out with when he's with other patrons.

"I think the bartender has a thing for you," Lexa remarks, amused. "He didn't want me to buy you a drink."

Clarke grins. "Oh, yeah, he's got a huge thing for me," she says, because she's just so used to everyone knowing that the bartender is her husband, it doesn't even occur to her that Lexa wouldn't know.

"So, I don't have a chance?" she asks, with a teasing smile.

The question is a complete surprise, and Clarke feels the world adjust around her. She's never been great at hookups, always kind of oblivious to anyone trying to make a move unless they're direct about it. But it's always obvious in retrospect, once someone points it out.

"Oh, no," she says. "I'm really sorry." She finds her hand and flashes the ring. "The bartender's my husband."

"Ah," says Lexa. "I was hoping for unlucky straight man pining for a lesbian."

"Mostly straight guy married to a bisexual," she says. "But I'd love to keep talking about art."

They do that until around eleven, when Bellamy comes over, still scowling, to say, "O's not feeling well, can I take your car to pick her up?"

"Oh, I'll come," says Clarke. "Is she okay? Do we need to go to the hospital?" She's already standing, fishing her keys out and giving them to Bellamy since she's been drinking. "Sorry, it was nice to meet you," she adds to Lexa. "Family emergency."

"You can stay," Bellamy says, but he's looking less annoyed by the second. "Seriously, I don't mind. I can handle it."

"I don't either," she says. "Of course I'm coming."

"Nice to meet you," says Lexa, with an edge that sounds a little like suspicion to Clarke. She slides her hand into Bellamy's as they leave, and he squeezes back automatically.

"You could have stayed," he tells her again once he's driving. "We don't need both of us to pick up Octavia. And she was--cute, I guess? I don't know what you're into."

"I'm married."

"You could have taken off the ring. She either didn't notice or didn't care."

"Didn't notice. I told her, once I figured out she was hitting on me." 

He glances at her, surprised. "Why?"

"Because I'm married, you dumbass."

"Yeah, but--"

"Bellamy," she says, strained, and she can see color climbing up his neck, even in the dark. "You didn't really think I was going to sleep with some girl, did you?"

"Are you going to punch me if I say yes?"

"Just in the shoulder."

He laughs, soft. "Well, as long as it's just the shoulder."

She does it, but not hard. "Were you seriously _jealous_?"

"You haven't gotten laid since we got married, I assume you miss it."

Clarke shakes her head. "Just go get your sister, Jesus. I'll yell at you later."

"Looking forward to it."

When they get to Fox's house, it turns out the sleepover has actually self-destructed, and Octavia is more moody and sullen than actually sick. Bellamy makes a few token attempts to talk to her on the drive back, which she shuts down, and she flees to her room as soon as they get home.

"Great," he says, scrubbing his hand over his face.

"I'll go talk to her. You can go back to work, if you want. You guys were busy, and we could use the tips."

"You don't mind staying here with O?"

"I never mind." She shoves his chest, a little less gentle than the punch earlier. "Go. I've got Octavia."

He hesitates for just a second, and Clarke thinks he's going to kiss her, has almost leaned into it, but he just says, "Okay, yeah. See you later."

He really is kind of a dumbass.

Octavia's door is ajar, so Clarke knocks and then pushes it open. Octavia's on her bed, scowling, but her expression clears a little when she sees it's Clarke.

"We agreed I'm better at sleepover-related issues," she says. "Plus he had to go back to work." She sits down on the opposite end of the bed from Octavia. "So, what happened?"

"Dumb shit."

"That doesn't narrow it down that much. I've been to a lot of sleepovers."

"Fox hooked up with the guy I like," she admits. "And it's not--she didn't know, and I hate that I'm annoyed. But, then, like, there was all this other drama and everyone wanted to leave and it just--it sucked. It was a mess, and I hate that I care about any of it because I know Atom isn't, like--it doesn't _matter_. None of it does. In ten years I'm not going to care about any of this."

"You are," Clarke says. "I mean, it hasn't been ten years for me yet, but I still care about high-school stuff. Just not the stuff I thought I would. I care, like--sometimes I wonder what it would have been like if I realized that girl was hitting on me and made a move. Or I remember someone who hurt me. I remember what my friends did and didn't do a lot more than I remember random crushes. I remember times I fucked up. And it matters, yeah. You learn from it. You try to do better."

"So, what did you learn?"

"Well, I still don't notice when people are hitting on me," she admits, thinking of Lexa, and Octavia snorts out a typical Blake laugh. "I don't know. I stopped accepting bullshit, I guess. I was more forgiving in high school. I gave people the benefit of the doubt, and they didn't deserve it. Maybe that's not a good thing to stop doing, though. I think I got better at picking my friends."

They're quiet as Octavia thinks it over, and finally she asks, "Does my brother know how you feel about him?"

"No. But I'm going to tell him. Tonight, probably."

"He likes you too," she blurts out. "That's why I was worried when you showed up. Bell doesn't like people very often, and he liked you, and I thought if he fell for you and you were just here for--I dunno. Weird charity. I thought you were going to break his heart."

"Yeah, I get that. But--no. Not weird charity. I'm not planning to break his heart."

"Cool," says Octavia. "Don't."

She means to be awake when Bellamy gets home, but she doesn't quite make it. She falls asleep on top of the covers with a book on her chest, and only stirs awake when the door creaks open. Instead of greeting him, she pretends she's still sleeping, and she can hear him pause as he comes in, probably watching her. He takes the book off her with a careful hand and sets it aside, and then there's the rustle of fabric and he undresses. 

"Hey, wake up," he murmurs, shakes her shoulder gently. She blinks her eyes open and smiles at him, feels her heart skip when he smiles back. "I'm pretty sure you don't want to sleep in your jeans."

There's nothing particularly remarkable about how he looks, or at least nothing out of the ordinary. His hair is mussed and his glasses are sliding down his nose. He's just wearing his boxers, which she should be used to by now, but it still gives her a thrill. Honestly, it's kind of a crime, Raven's right. He's her husband, and she's not doing a thing about it.

"Hi," she says, curls her hand around his neck and pulls him down to her. 

There's a second of actual _resistance_ that has her worried, but then he catches himself on the bed, bringing one leg up to support himself, and when he gets to her, his mouth is warm and insistent and _sure_.

They haven't kissed since New Year's, and Clarke has missed it. She _always_ misses it, but she didn't want to take too much advantage of her position, of her ability to kiss him whenever she'd like. Not when she hadn't made sure he wanted to kiss her too.

"How drunk are you?" he murmurs against her lips, and she has to laugh, half amusement and half relief. His own smile is sheepish as he looks at her. "What? You were drinking."

"It's been two hours," she says. "And I wasn't even that drunk when I left. And you gave me all my drinks. You know exactly how much I've had."

He tucks her hair back with gentle fingers. "Okay, yeah. Just--are you sure? I can't just--"

The kiss this time is longer, gentle, and Bellamy shifts so he's all the way on the bed, on top of her. Clarke lets her hands trail down over his back, tracing the lines of him, the shift of muscle, and he kisses her jaw and her neck before he pulls back again.

"Seriously, I need verbal confirmation, Clarke," he says, but his smile is blinding now. "We have a kid. The divorce would be messy."

"The kid is sixteen and I'd give you full custody," she says. "She overheard me telling my mom I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Of course, he _still_ looks surprised. Meeting him the way she had, Clarke had sort of assumed Bellamy was in some control of his life. Not total control, obviously, because he was on Craigslist looking for a wife, but he had a clear plan. And he definitely _is_ in control of parts of his life, he's just kind of a failure in some ways.

"Seriously, I'm so in love with you," she says. "It's a classic fake-marriage failure. You've seen rom coms. You should know."

"Thank fucking god," he says, and the kiss this time is deep and dirty, unrestrained. Tension drains out of Bellamy as she responds, and it's clear that he's been holding himself back, that not touching her has required actual effort.

"You haven't said anything yet," she manages, breathless. 

"I can't even believe you're real," he says, kissing down her neck. "I thought I was just--my whole life was over. And then you showed up and you were so fucking perfect."

"I'm not even your type," she says, and apparently it's an alarming enough sentiment that he has to pull back.

"What?"

She hadn't thought it was a controversial statement, but she feels herself blush anyway. "Octavia said--"

"Octavia was being a brat," he mutters. "She thought you just wanted to marry me for my body, once I convinced her you weren't doing it for my money."

"You don't have any money."

He grins. "Yeah, that's how I convinced her." He kisses her again, like he doesn't know how to stop doing it now that he's started. "I guess she's right that most of my girlfriends look more like Raven. But you look just like my wife, so--"

"I do, huh?" she asks, laughing, and tangles her hand in his hair. "What are the odds?"

*

Bellamy's still in bed when she wakes up, which almost never happens even though he usually stays up later. Hopefully it was part of whatever he was doing to avoid pressuring her about their relationship, because she likes waking up with him. Especially when neither of them has work.

She twists around in his arms so she can bury her face against his chest, and he responds so instantly that he must have been awake already. His embrace tightens and his lips brush against her hair.

"Morning. Still sober and into me?"

"It's going to get old if you ask me that every day," she grumbles.

"I just like hearing you say it. Give me this one."

"I'm just using you for your money," she assures him.

"Worst gold digger ever."

She laughs and kisses his collarbone. "I knew I fucked up somewhere in there."

"Yeah, but divorcing me really would be a pain, so--"

She rolls them over so she's on top of him, and he grins up from his pillow, looking stupidly happy. Part of her feels a tug of regret at how long she waited, but--it's nice to be so _sure_. She'd never forgive herself if she'd gotten carried away and broken his heart.

"Huge pain," she agrees, leaning in and brushing her lips against his. She might not know how to stop kissing him either. "And my mom likes me again, so I might not be disowned. You might actually be the gold digger here. She's loaded."

"Huh," he says, with genuine surprise. "Really?"

"Assuming we work it out, you totally hit the Craigslist-wife jackpot."

He pauses. "Yeah, I'm not going to respond to that because I don't want to incriminate myself."

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"I really don't care how much money you have, I still lucked out," he says, with a shy smile, and rolls her over for a long kiss before she can say anything else.

By the time they make it downstairs, it's almost noon, and Octavia has gotten desperate enough to be cooking for herself.

"No one was making me breakfast," she complains to Bellamy, who's checking the coffee pot. "And I had no idea when you were coming up for air, so--"

Bellamy shoves his sister's head gently, and then grabs two mugs, filling both with coffee and adding milk and sugar to Clarke's. When he offers it to her, his smile is shy again, like they hadn't been having sex for two hours.

"God forbid you have to fend for yourself," he adds to Octavia.

"I'm just saying, I didn't make enough for you guys, so you're on your own. And I'm going to lock myself in my room to do homework all day. With headphones. And my music on maximum volume. I can't believe Christmas _just passed_ , I could have asked for better headphones."

"Uh huh," says Bellamy. "I don't feel bad for you even a little bit."

"I don't feel bad for you either," she shoots back, and frowns as Bellamy's grin widens. "God, shut _up_. You're going to be totally unbearable for the next year, aren't you? Like you weren't bad enough already."

"Two more years and you can move out," he says, and glances back at Clarke, tilting his head like he's concerned. For all Clarke loves them both, she still doesn't feel quite like she knows how to fit into these moments, _family_ moments. But Bellamy raises his arm, expectant, and Clarke tucks herself into his side. 

"There's definitely enough food there for more than one person," she remarks, giving Octavia a small smile of her own, which Octavia returns at full force.

"I'm a growing girl," she says, emptying the frying pan onto her plate with a sunny smile. "Make your own damn breakfast."

*

They have a wedding ceremony on their anniversary, roughly. It doesn't work out exactly right, because who wants to have a wedding ceremony on a Thursday, but they do it on the Saturday after, and it's nice. Small and fairly understated, but Clarke's mother was happy to foot the bill and buy them a lot of stuff, which is a cool bonus.

"We don't need ninety percent of this," Bellamy says, with some awe. It's Sunday, and they're looking through wedding presents, all but three of which are from Abby. "She's seen our house. How did she look at our house and decide we were the kind of people who needed a melon baller? Why would you even want melon in ball form?"

Clarke wraps her arms around his waist and noses at his shoulder blade. "All food is cooler in ball form, obviously."

"How did I not know that?" He runs his hand through his hair. "Seriously, how much did she spend on this?"

"Way too much. She doesn't like just giving money, she thinks it's classless, so she buys things. With gift receipts. We'll take a trip to Williams-Sonoma and get a ton of cash back. We can put in on the bed and roll around in it."

"So, this is why people get married, huh?" he asks, shaking his head. "So their rich relatives can just throw useless shit at them?"

"Isn't it about alliances? Strengthening inter-tribe bonds or something? That's what I remember from TV and my freshman year anthropology class."

"Oh, yeah, obviously." He shakes his head. "I guess the cash is pretty great. If only you'd been talking to your mom the first time we got married, we could have gotten double the stuff."

"If I'd been talking to my mom the first time we got married, I never would have gone on Craigslist looking for a random guy to live with."

He tenses, as he usually does when she reminds him how many chances they both had to realize this entire relationship was a completely absurd idea that one of them should have vetoed before they got far enough to fall in love.

"Okay, so, thank god you got in a fight with your mom," he corrects. "I'm still not balling any melons."

"I bet you could use it to ball other things."

"I can't tell if you're teasing me or that's a really shitty pickup line."

"I was teasing you, but I kind of wish it had been a shitty pickup line now." She lets him go and goes back over to the pile of presents. She's pretty sure Abby just bought out the entire store, in an attempt to show support. She's always been better with things than with people. "We're keeping the waffle iron."

"Yeah, O made a list of shit she actually wants before she left this morning, that was on there." He sits down next to her. "It was a nice wedding. We should do it again next year."

"We're not celebrating our anniversary with a wedding every year. Way too much trouble. Next year I'll put out if you buy me dinner."

"Wow, what a deal. You never put out."

"Like all marriages, ours is sexless, loveless, and joyless."

He laughs. "That's really what I was expecting, you know?"

"I know," she says. "Sorry I let you down."

He picks up a colander that looks like a rocket ship and gives it an experimental shake. "You've been a real disappointment, yeah," he tells her, not meeting her eyes. "Absolutely not what I was looking for at all."

"Yeah," she agrees. "But, as always, getting divorced would be a huge pain, so you're just going to have to put up with me."

He leans over and presses his mouth against hers, soft and quick. "Thanks for marrying me again," he says, switching over to genuine, not looking at her. "I, uh--it was nice. To have a real ceremony."

"Thanks for asking," she says, bumping her shoulder against his. "It's not a hardship, Bellamy. None of it has been. I keep telling you, you don't owe me anything."

"I know," he says, and sounds like he even means it. "You get my amazing body out of the deal. so--"

Clarke laughs and shoves him away. "I can't believe I married you _twice_."

"Neither can I," he says, and grabs another present before she can respond, his favorite deflection technique. "What's this one?"

"Wine bucket," she says, leaning against his shoulder. "To chill all that fancy wine we drink."

"Jesus Christ," he mutters. "Okay. Pile of shit and pile of cool stuff we want?"

"Sure. You're definitely vetoing the melon baller?"

"Absolutely and completely vetoing the melon baller," he confirms, and it's the first thing to go into the shit pile.

She still buys him a new one, for their second wedding anniversary, and he laughs, tackles her onto the couch, and kisses her breathless.

"It's not really a marriage without a melon baller!" she protests, laughing, and he bites her neck.

"And god forbid we're not really married," he teases. "After all this work."

"God forbid," Clarke agrees, and tugs her husband back to her, right where he belongs.

**Author's Note:**

> Bellamy POV [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5691655/chapters/17795206)!


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